You call me out upon the waters ... In oceans deep, my faith will stand
It became my anthem. What I clung to when I didn't think I could keep smiling. Because although the week was for the high schoolers, I learned more about myself and my narrow way of thinking.
It all started with the traffic jam. We were .25 miles from camp, and we came to a halt. There was a charter bus blocking the 2 lane road, and there was no way around it. So we walked. With all our luggage, our duffel bags, pillows, guitars, and odds and ends that were most likely unnecessary. As we walked in, I could tell it'd be a week of the unexpected. Of things being sprung on me like a broken down bus. And I was right.
With half the participants inner-city kids, and half suburban kids, there were bound to be lessons. And at Sunday Mass, 10 pm that first night, I was hit with the first one. As the lights dimmed during the consecration and spontaneous clapping broke out after the gloria, I was uncomfortable. When the celebrant picked up a guitar and strummed it while waiting for the first reading, I was uncomfortable. As we were highly encouraged to hold hands during the Our Father, I was uncomfortable. You see, many of those inner-city kids have never been to Mass. Although I don't agree with the guitar strumming, I could see why the lights were dimmed. It made sense that we were encouraged to hold hands. It centered them on Christ and, though they couldn't receive Him tangibly as we Catholics could, it helped them see the significance of what what going on and welcomed them into the mystery.
Throughout the week, our youth minister (who I'd been interning under for the summer) encouraged us chaperones to take plenty of time for ourselves. I looked forward to my hour alone with Jesus each day. It built upon and enhanced the time I had at Mass, the praise and worship, and yes, even the hours of dishes I found myself doing. I was reminded that Christ was working in and through me. He used my words to reach the kids in my small group, and He saw fit to touch my heart with the talks. It was humbling, being used for a divine task. It required total surrender, and while it was difficult to do so, it was incredibly worthwhile.
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander.
Because lately the image of me walking on the water towards Jesus has been a theme. Something that has come to others through prayer with me. Something I've been meditating on while in this time of transition. I may not be able to see behind me, or the reasons for walking where I am, or anything but the hand of my Savior reaching towards me through the swirling waves, but still, I know that He is there.